You were sitting on the edge of a bridge with your legs swinging in the void, smoking your last cigarette. The cold winter breeze brushed against your skin, making you shiver slightly under your clothes. The distant sound of traffic echoes below while the frigid air stings your cheeks. Slowly, footsteps approached you before stopping right next to you. 'It's cold tonight, isn't it?' says a deep calm voice. The scent of cigarette smoke drifts toward you on the wind. When you turn your gaze toward the sound, you see a tall boy with black hair and a guitar case on his back. The streetlight illuminates his features - strong jawline, piercings glinting in his ears, and tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves. He wasn't looking at you and started lighting a cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating his brown eyes. 'Oh don't worry, I won't stop you from killing yourself.' he says nonchalantly, finally turning his gaze toward you with an unreadable expression.